


Unexpected Friends

by HopeCoppice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: Anathema finds herself in a crummy American-themed bar for Thanksgiving.
Relationships: Anathema Device & Thaddeus J. Dowling
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12
Collections: GO Events - Rare Pairs





	Unexpected Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the GO-Events rarepair minievent. Enjoy!

Three months after the Apocalypse, Anathema was spending Thanksgiving in a crummy little American-themed bar on the outskirts of London, eating cremated turkey and cranberry sauce that tasted like it had had all the actual fruit content boiled out of it at some point. She seemed to be one of the very few people who both celebrated Thanksgiving and had nobody to celebrate with - Newt had offered, but then he'd tried to look up holiday traditions on the internet at the library and now he was working off the damages by mopping the hallways. He was, therefore, unavailable, and Anathema had assured him she'd make her own plans. Staying in alone hadn't sounded especially enticing, so she'd looked up American bars and found one that would be open on the big night.

She'd pictured something straight out of _Cheers,_ a group of dysfunctional people brought together by circumstance and determined to be festive anyway - Anathema assumed that was what happened in _Cheers,_ although she'd never actually sat down and watched an episode - a heartwarming tale that she could tell Newt another day.

What she got was the worst Thanksgiving meal she'd ever tasted, in an empty bar with only one other patron. After five minutes of poking at her food, she gave up and took her plate over to the sole occupied booth.

"Hi. Mind if I sit with you? Sucks to spend Thanksgiving alone."

"Tell me about it," he boomed, and gestured for her to take a seat. "Name's Tad, Tad Dowling, I'm an ambassador. And you are?"

"Anathema Device. I'm an occultist."

"Oh, great, that's a good job. Nothing wrong with my eyes, though, so I'm not gonna make you talk shop." Anathema took a moment to parse that, and by the time she had, Tad was booming again. "I'd usually be back home in the States for Thanksgiving - my wife and son went back to her parents' for the week - but unfortunately duty calls, so here I am in London."

"That's a shame," Anathema said politely, "and I bet you'd have been eating better than this, too."

"Hard to get worse, huh?" Tad laughed. "Hard to get worse, but there you go. Let's call this turkey our patriotic duty, smash through it, and head on home."

"Oh, uh, I-"

"Separately, I mean," Tad hastened to add. "I don't want you thinking I mean anything untoward."

"Of course not," Anathema assured him, secretly relieved that she wouldn't have to use the breadknife she kept hidden on her person. "Can I buy you a drink, then? I'd love to talk about, you know, about home, I guess."

"Sure, sure, next round's on me. But first-" Tad looked her in the eye. "I'm thankful for this food, such as it is, and for my wife and son and the job that lets me keep 'em. You?"

"I'm thankful for..." Anathema thought about it, about the last few months and the coming year. "I guess I'm thankful for unexpected friends."


End file.
